Page 63

Flynn

The team guarded and interrogated Adrian Knox, the vampire prisoner on the fourth floor. The one Seb would trade for Damien, and my life. Messages had gone to Vale’s coven about our demands, hoping Adrian’s friends would pressure Vale.

There’d been negotiations—though Seb kept me in the dark—but nothing concrete. No deal. No salvation ahead.

So here I was. One day left until the demon magic was due to kill me.

Fun times.

The whole team walked on eggshells around me, their smiles too wide, their voices too bright.

Seb had promised to come find me this evening, but it had already reached 8:00 p.m. With a heavy heart, I pushed off the sofa. My feet carried me up the basement stairs, then the grand staircase, past peeling wallpaper and dusty portraits. Perhaps he’d be in his office, doing something important.

But I needed to see him. To drink in the sight of him, even if just for a moment. Even if neither of us acknowledged the crushing weight of tomorrow hanging over our heads.

I’d only had snatches of time with Seb over the past few days. A flash of his coat in the hallway. The brush of his fingers against mine at any opportunity .

Some nights, he’d managed to slip into my room. We never did much more than lie there, tangled up in each other’s arms. Talking a bit, or watching Buffy.

Last night, he’d appeared at my door just before dawn, his face drawn with exhaustion.

Without a word, I’d pulled him into bed.

He’d wrapped himself around me like a shield, his cool body pressed against my back, his arm draped over my waist. Since yesterday, the ice inside my chest had become a permanent fixture, pumping freezing blood around my permanently cold body.

As I clung to Seb, I had to do my best not to shiver, in case he realised he was making me even colder.

Those quiet moments felt stolen, precious.

Like fragments of peace in the midst of chaos.

We didn’t talk about the date. Didn’t mention the demon magic eating away at me, or the negotiations with Vale’s coven, or the possibility that this—whatever this was between us—might end before it truly began.

Reaching Seb’s office door, I knocked. No answer.

“Seb?” I called, as if he might not have heard.

Still nothing.

My hand drifted to the brass doorknob. It turned without resistance. For all his gruff exterior and dark mystique, Seb trusted his team enough to leave his sanctuary open.

A twinge of guilt pricked at my conscience as I slipped inside. The office lay in shadow, illuminated only by the glow of his desk lamp. A notebook lay open, a fountain pen carelessly dropped beside. Though this wasn’t his usual notepad that he brought to meetings.

I shouldn’t have looked. I really shouldn’t have.

But my gaze had already snagged on the words, drawing me in like a hook…

30th October, 2025

Tomorrow is the day. The day the dark magic will have fully incubated within Flynn.

I hope to return to my professional records at nightfall with a positive update—that Marcus Vale has agreed to the exchange.

As it stands, he is still refusing to negotiate, spreading lies about Killigrew Street to his clan and the wider community.

If the worst does happen—and Flynn dies tomorrow—then I wanted to create a record of him here to look back upon. Presently, I hold the image of him so clear in my mind, and it feels as if he shall always remain that way.

My memories always do, until they fade like watercolours bleached by the sun.

Flynn Carter.

The depth of my feelings for him… They consume me. I feel so utterly unmade. As if he’s reached inside me and rearranged everything. I find myself counting the hours until I see him again, cataloguing every smile, every touch, every moment.

What was it that first entranced me, that first night?

Perhaps it was the way he moved on the dance floor—spinning circles around that foul cambion with wild abandon, completely unaware of how he drew every eye in the room.

Of course, a few hours later, he’d driven his knee straight into my groin. I suppose that caught my attention too.

And oh, his stubbornness—his stubbornness rivals even my own.

I tried to push him away, warned him of the darkness that follows me, but he refused to listen.

He says he wants all of me, even the parts I’ve spent centuries trying to hide.

The blood. The violence. The monster beneath.

It’s remarkable, really. He looks at me and sees… more. Something worth saving.

He thinks he can save me from my solitude. It is true—my carefully maintained isolation has been undone by his smile, his touch, his unwavering faith in me.

Though now, with tomorrow looming, I wonder if isolation wasn’t the safer option after all. A part of me still resists the notion of romantic love, still remembers the crushing pain of James.

Though James feels distant now, like a story I once read.

Flynn has brought colour back into my world.

He’s turned my carefully ordered existence into something chaotic and bright—like those red-chequered pyjamas of his I so adore sliding my skin against, like the way he hums sea shanties under his breath, like the pink sticky notes with smiley faces he keeps leaving attached to my notepad when I place it down.

Tonight, I must

“I’ve been trying to find y—”

I whirled around, the diary slipping from my fingers and hitting the floor with a dull thud. As if dropping the evidence might somehow erase what I’d done.

Seb stood frozen in the doorway, eyes wide with shock. His mouth opened and closed, no words coming out.

“That’s my— That’s my private diary!”

Heat exploded across my cheeks. Fuck fuck fuck.

Damage control, damage control! “I’m so sorry. The door was open and I was looking for you and—” I gestured helplessly at the fallen book. “I shouldn’t have read it. I know I shouldn’t have.”

Seb’s gaze dropped to the diary, then back to me.

“How much did you…?”

I swallowed hard. “I didn’t quite finish it.”

A peculiar expression crossed his face—somewhere between mortification and resignation. He ran a fraught hand through his dark curls. “Well. I suppose that’s…” He trailed off, then bent to retrieve the diary. “I prefer to keep my thoughts private.”

“I really am sorry.” I took a step toward him. “If it helps, what you wrote was beautiful.”

Seb’s shoulders tensed. “Flynn—”

“Especially the bit about my pyjamas—”

“Please stop.” Though there was a hint of amusement breaking through his stern expression. “This is already excruciating enough.”

“You know, I thought you might not be over James yet,” I said softly. “I accidentally saw his social media file in Felix’s lair. You know, those updates you get him to print monthly. ”

Seb grimaced. “I ought to tell Felix to stop that now. It’s… inappropriate.”

“No,” I said quickly, even as jealousy twisted in my gut. “If it helps you, then it’s a good idea. It’s sweet you still want to know. That you care.”

Seb’s gaze bored into me. “I think that chapter of my life has long since closed.” He took a step closer. “I loved him dearly. But I’ve spent twenty years stuck in the past, and now…” He paused, something vulnerable flickering across his face. “Now I find myself wanting to turn the page.”

He took both of my hands in his, pressing his lips first to one, then the other. My burnt hand, now free of bandages, tingled at the contact.

“But I know I’m going to die tomorrow!” The words burst out of me.

Way to kill the vibe, Flynn.

Seb’s brow furrowed. “We never told you an exact date.”

I glared at him. “I’m not stupid. You’ve all been referring to Halloween as if it’s some kind of deadline.

As if my time will run out.” My fingers drifted to my chest, to that spot of permanent ice that had taken root there.

“And I can feel it. I can feel it killing me.” My voice trembled.

“I’ve been trying to ignore it, but… I’m so cold. So damned cold. And—”

Seb pressed a finger to my lips to silence me as a shiver racked my body, then drew me against him, arms wrapping around me. For once, his cool temperature felt warm compared to the frost spreading through my veins.

“Flynn, I came to find you to tell you the good news. Vale’s agreed to the exchange.”

The words hit me like a wave breaking against a seawall, the meaning taking time to seep through.

“You… what?” I whispered, my world tilting on its axis. The constant dread that had become as familiar as breathing suddenly felt less absolute, less crushing.

“Tomorrow morning. Even if Damien doesn’t tell us who he’s working for, we’re confident killing him will immediately release your affliction. The dark magic is tied to his life force. ”

My knees buckled. If Seb hadn’t been holding me, I’d have crumpled to the floor right there, the weeks of carefully suppressed terror finally catching up with me.

“I’m not going to die?” The words came out small and broken, like a child seeking reassurance after a nightmare.

Seb’s lips brushed my forehead, impossibly gentle. “Not if I have any say in it.” His arms tightened around me for a moment before he pulled back, clearing his throat. “But we’re not going to talk of such matters right now.”

I blinked up at him, thrown by the sudden shift in his demeanor. He looked almost… nervous?

“I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?”

“Yes, well.” Seb smoothed down his already immaculate shirt. “I thought, given recent events, you could do with something… pleasant.”

“Um… okay.”

“And you’ve been saying how you’re sick of being stuck in the hotel—”

“We’re leaving the hotel?!” I could have cried with joy.

“ Ahh . Not… entirely. Follow me.”

Curiosity officially piqued.

He guided me to the end of the corridor, where a narrow service staircase spiraled upwards. We traipsed up it, all the way to a cramped space with a large metal door, wedged open with a brick, an extension cable running through it.